


An Unconventional Love Affair

by Inspire_me_to_breathe



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Banter, But they have a funny way of showing it, Crack, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Insults, Lil' bit angsty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-01-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 12:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1132520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspire_me_to_breathe/pseuds/Inspire_me_to_breathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head far enough up my arse.”</p><p>Arthur and Eames are arguing. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unconventional Love Affair

There’s been a tension in the air all morning; it makes the team restless. They discuss plans with quick words and no emotion, go under with crude efficiency and drink coffee not for the taste but for the easy buzz.

Eames is sprawled in his chair, knees turning outwards and the inside of his legs exposed. His face is set in a permanent leer directed towards Arthur. The other man is standing, tense, all straight lines and no softness. He knows Eames is staring, and hates him for it, because it reminds him of the strange, heated glint in Eames’ eyes as he presses himself against Arthur, night after night.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair. He’s on the verge of something but he can’t tell what. The sunlight seems too hot on his skin, like Eames’ fingertips. He wants to close his eyes and breathe in deeply, feel the cool air circulate his blood, but he can’t because he’s lecturing the whole team and they are watching him. Eames is still staring.

“The mark won’t react to the alterations if we’re distracting his projections in a less harmful manner.” Arthur is saying, although the words feel heavy in his mouth. He can’t concentrate. Eames’ eyelashes are like spun gold in the light. “We can take advantage of the disturbance as long as it coincides with the actual inception.” What the hell is he saying? Words. They mean nothing. He feels sick. Eames stares, then checks his watch idly.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” Arthur grinds out.

“No, no.” Eames looks up in surprise, “I don’t mind you talking for so long if you don’t mind me not listening.” He grins, staring, “A fair compromise, I think.”

Arthur assumes he’s joking like he always does, and turns back to the others.

“Can we synchronise it with an aural signal?” Dom frowns at the whiteboard, leaning his elbows on his knees as he tries to visualise the plan.

“Like we do with the kick?” Ariadne tilts her head slightly and a strand of her falls across her face. She seems to be considering the idea, and nods her approval. “It would have to be distinct, but it would work.”

“Of course,” Arthur makes a note, “We can decide if-”

“What does that say?” Eames interrupts suddenly, still lounging in his chair.

Arthur double takes, glancing at the whiteboard. “What does what say?”

“That.” Eames says, “There,”

“Where?”

His waves a hand airily, “That long word.”

Arthur frowns at him. Eames stares back.

“Don’t waste time.” Arthur snaps, annoyed. It’s too hot. He rolls up his sleeves. “Now, let’s-”

“I’m serious.” Eames sits forward, his bulk shifting menacingly. “What the fuck did you write down?”

“Can’t you read?” Arthur growls patronisingly.

Eames switches from staring to glaring. Arthur suppresses the urge to flinch.

He speaks quickly, forcing the word to remain neutral, “Distraction.”

Eames inspects the word, writes it down carefully. His writing is slow, like a child’s, and Arthur can see from here that he’s spelt it wrong.

But Arthur wants to get on; wants to finish the presentation so he can sit in the cool dark of his hotel room and let his mind go blank. No doubt he can correct Eames’ spelling mistake later when he stumbles into Arthur’s room well past midnight, just because he wants to annoy the point man one last time.

“So if we use the circular structure of the level to strengthen the boundaries, the mark will be more willing to believe it’s all just a dream.” Arthur concludes, tapping a digitally created image of the architecture to emphasise his point.

“That won’t help.” Eames is shaking his head. His hands tremble slightly, like a familiar weight is missing from his grip, “He’s a man of progress, of development. He wants an adventure, not safety.”

“It’s not about what he wants.” Arthur insists, “It’s about what he needs.”

“What he needs _is_ what he wants!” Eames' voice hitches to a slightly louder volume. The tension of the morning seems to be permeating everything they say. “It’s a dream, right? So he expects something completely-”

“If I wanted your opinion, I’d give it to you.” Arthur bites out, “Challenging his expectations ensures the inception proves successful. If we fulfil them, he will feel too relaxed and won’t show us what-”

“Bollocks!” Eames snorts, standing suddenly, “I’d like to see things from your point of view, but I can’t seem to get my head far enough up my arse.”

The room is shocked into silence. Arthur feels the urge to laugh, but Eames isn’t laughing. Eames is angry about something and Arthur can’t work out, for the life of him, what that is. And that fact makes Arthur angry.

To compensate, he sneers. “Well, I could agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”

Eames' mouth twists into an ugly frown, “Look, Arthur, I’ve been thinking about this and there is no way-”

“Wait, what?” Arthur’s speaking before he can stop himself, condescension dripping from every word, “A thought crossed your mind? What a long and lonely journey.” It isn’t his best, but Arthur feels a primitive thrill as Eames takes a step closer into his personal space, his eyes narrowed.

“I won’t insult you by suggesting you actually believe what you just said.” Eames’ smirk is intact again. He raises a hand to lightly stroke Arthur’s cheek, who recoils as if he’d been burnt. Eames isn’t deterred and steps in even closer, all the better for noticing the flaws that mar his handsome features.  The scars, the crooked smile, the slightly chapped lips. There’s a predatory look in Eames’ eye and his next words are delivered softly.  “Now, why don’t you slip into something more comfortable – like a coma.”

At that, Eames turns on heel and stalks away. The air chills around Arthur at the sudden loss of Eames’ body warmth. He’s angry, Arthur knew that, but now there’s a kind of bitterness mixed in too.

“Eames!” Arthur snaps, refusing to chase after the man.

Eames reels round, glaring, “What?” Arthur is surprised by his expression, and hurt.

“Well, jerk, I was going to give you a nasty look, and then I saw you already had one.”

Eames doesn’t react, like he knows that wasn’t what Arthur was going to say. Instead he raises an eyebrow slowly, as if Arthur epitomises everything that bores him in life, “Oh, darling, go buy a personality.”

“Because your personality is a delight to be around.”

Eames laughs, harsh and vindictive, “I could eat some alphabet soup and shit out a better insult than that.”

“Do you think?,” Arthur challenges, so caught up in this competition he’s all but forgotten Ariadne and Dom exist, “The smartest thing that ever came out of your mouth was a penis.”

“Spreading rumours?” Eames sneers, “At least you’re spreading something besides your legs.”

They glare at each other, each remembering different moments in the past year they’ve been fucking. Dom shifts uncomfortably, as is he’s contemplating breaking them up, but it’s too awkward.

“Weren’t you going?” Arthur folds his arms defensively, and Eames notices. “If I throw a stick, will you leave?”

Eames takes a small step forward, his eyes dark, “Arthur, you suck,”

“You swallow.”

Eames slaps Arthur.

It hurts like a bitch, and continues to sting even after Arthur’s rubbed at it.

“That probably does count as cruelty to animals, but I don’t give a shit.” Eames fumes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to be offended?” Arthur wants to punch him in retaliation but doesn’t want to stoop to the same level. Besides, the waves off anger coming off Eames suggest if Arthur _does_ start a fight, he’d lose.  “The only thing that’s offending me is your face.”

“Is your arse jealous of the amount of shit that comes out of your mouth, Arthur?

“Guys!” Ariadne yells out suddenly, standing up to stride in between them. Eames tries to dodge around her but she plants herself firmly in the way, looking incredibly unswerving for such a tiny person.  “Stop acting like children.”

“But he’s a dick!” Eames protests and Ariadne rolls her eyes, because it’s clear to everyone but the two men what the problem is here.

She exchanges a hard look with Arthur and he sighs reluctantly, all the fight leaving him, “Eames, what’s the matter? I _know_ you’re upset about something.”

“You _don’t_ know me.” Eames snarls, refusing to back down.

“I know when you’re lying,” Arthur retorts, “Your lips move. Can’t you just be honest for once?”

Eames says nothing.

Ariadne turns to Dom for help, so he stands up to address the two men in his most authoritative manner.  “If you two don’t sort out your differences in a civilised manner, this job will be a clusterfuck.” He says bluntly, and then sits back down again, pleased with his contribution.

But Arthur knows it’s a lost cause, “Dom, we have absolutely nothing in common,” he explains.

“Yes, we do, you piece of shit.” Eames snaps, “We both love you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Who do you think won that argument? Or who had the best insults?
> 
> Please give kudos/comment! <3


End file.
